Between the Lines
by Kairen-Cirrus
Summary: Grell begins to take a more pro-active approach in winning the affections of his favorite man. But just as he's about to set things in motion, William receives a transfer order. What's a lady to do?
1. Transfert de Travail

**A/N:** Hello everyone, I'm back again with yet another multi-chapter story! It seems I'm horribly incapable of writing one-shots. This was also supposed to be a brief one-shot, but quickly turned into a massive plot-line. It's like I'm a rock, and I'm always writing at the top of a hill. In any case, here's a story dealing with my two favorite characters in this series. I'm used to roleplaying William with my friends so it was very difficult to write for Grell, but I hope I did a semi-decent job. Sorry if any bits of him seem terribly OOC, it's my first time, so be gentle with a lady.

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><p><em>Transfert de Travail<em>

Grell shifted his uncomfortable position on the floor and let out a yawn, baring his razor sharp fangs. Licking his slightly dried lips, he rolled his eyes and clapped shut the cinematic record in his hands. Another book, another life... why were they all so dull? Bracing his hand on one of the shelves next to him, he brought himself to a stand, dusting himself off slightly and leaving the record he was reading on the floor. There were quite a few records strewn about on the floor beside his feet actually. Having grown bored of the literature of his time and having finished the vast collection of Shakespeare plays and sonnets, Grell had been searching for other sources of romantic inspiration. In the end he had turned to reading the cinematic records in the library, hoping that some of these lives held the romantic inspiration he had been craving. But alas, in all the multitudes of people who had passed away, only a precious few had had lives that could spark the tiniest sparks of interest. Many of them were just depressing or sad, but for the most part... He let out another yawn. They were just too boring!

Kicking one of the books at his feet, Grell paced down a few shelves to select another record at random to read. Since they were all organized by name and year, there was no real systematic way of trying to find the most interesting records. Unfortunately, the library would not organize the books by genre, despite how brilliant the suggestion had been. Honestly, what was the point of keeping them organized this way? Once they were dead and judged, that was the end of it in terms of their records. Then they were kept in a giant library until judgment day (who knew when that would be) and in the meantime, nobody looked at them. They might as well be organized for some leisure reading so that some of the dusty old books would get used occasionally. Pacing further along the shelves, Grell paused when he saw a record with the first name Angelina. His thoughts swam back to his days with Madam Red before he could stop himself, and his mouth frowned a little in distaste. She was certainly one of the most disappointing humans he had ever known. At first he had truly thought she was special, in fact, he dared to believe that he might have even fallen in love with her. He had wanted her in so many ways. She was the woman he had always wanted, the woman he should have been. They had been so alike, before she fell back on those horrible sentimentalities of hers and became just like all the other boring women whose records Grell had been skimming over the past few weeks.

Come to think of it, Grell placed a finger on his chin, remembering the contents of her cinematic record. Her life had been a terrible, failed love story as well. She had pined after a man for all her life and never received his affections. The little brat's father, wasn't it? What a cold man... And yet, wasn't Grell in the same situation? His body let out a small shiver as he instantly thought of cold, green eyes behind a pair of silver-rimmed glasses. Oh yes, Grell too was a woman of unrequited love. Though unlike the Madam, he was actually trying to get the cursed man to return his feelings. It had been centuries, and Grell was growing quite impatient. That was really one of the only reasons why he had so immediately lusted after darling Sebby when he had popped into his life. In many ways, his cold, stoic demeanor had reminded him of William. But of course, demons weren't to be trusted. And Sebastian's gorgeous ruby orbs were hollow pits that loved nothing. The only time he saw a speck of emotion in Sebas-chan's eyes was when he was looking at that Phantomhive brat. Honestly, what a waste.

But Will... Grell put a hand delicately to his cheek, remembering when he had first fallen for the man. It had been back in their Academy days, when Grell had been one of the most studious students around... and darling William had been such a slacker. A smile crept to his lips as he remembered the younger William with his hair all wild. He still had that same scowl, though he had changed how he wore his hair. Some things really never changed. Grell let out a dramatic sigh that no one could hear, and picked the record he had seen earlier off the shelf. Settling down onto the floor with it, Grell remembered how fiery William had been when they had fought, and how brutally he himself had been defeated. Many death gods believed Grell to be the strongest death god in the London division, but that was only because they hadn't seen William in action, and William didn't do much field work in the first place. Underneath that quiet character of his, there was a rather fierce beast who burned with a sort of cold fire. It was so contradictory, much like himself. Grell couldn't help but squirm in delight as he thought of him and put both hands on his cheeks to stop himself. Honestly, such lewd thoughts were so unbecoming for a lady.

He opened the record in his lap and began to skim the pages. People who had asked him why he had been spending countless nights in the library looking at records had been given one simple answer: research. Grell was researching human lives, specifically human romances, so that he could find ways to attract his prey. And although a lady couldn't be too forward, Grell was getting tired of waiting and wanted some progress. He wanted William to look at him with those eyes again, those eyes from a hundred years ago. Unfortunately, all of these women were doing it wrong, and it was driving him insane. If they were given a second chance at life, Grell would simply have to give them all advice on how to properly attract their man. Unfortunately, he had to admit that none of those tactics had really worked for him yet. But if he wasn't going to do it in his usual way, he still refused to do it in a way that was too boring. William was a rare prize, and he wanted to win him properly.

Flipping through this particular cinematic record, he began to see the life of an aristocratic woman. Her life in her early years was everything you'd expect from children born to that social status. She was given the best schooling, the best clothes, the best nurses, everything she ever wanted was hers. Her father was doting and caring, her mother was a beautiful figurehead to the household. But Grell had to admit this little girl had a fire to her. And she was quite the little actress to boot. In front of her family and her nurses, she was the perfectly behaved little lady she was being raised to be. But whenever she could find herself away from those overseeing eyes, she was a feisty little tomboy. She took pleasure in doing many athletic things forbidden to most women, and she ran away as often as she could to travel around on her own. And when she was engaged to be married to another young nobleman, she was fortunate enough to actually fall in love with the man she had been promised to. Unfortunately, he seemed to be completely disinterested in her, and was clearly disapproving of her rather unladylike ways. He just wanted another boring English woman. She was supposed to be demure, soft-spoken, obedient. And she was everything but. But she loved him still somehow.

They were married regardless of their feelings, of course. For years she tried various ways to make him love her. But she couldn't bring herself to just be the obedient wife she was raised to be. Grell felt a small tug of affection for her. It was good of her to not compromise herself for a man. In as much as Grell pined for William, he would never be willing to give up who he was to get that. He would just make William appreciate the person that he was, and make him see the appeal to the wonderful lady that was right in front of his eyes. The question was simply how to go about doing that. Not caring to finish the record in his hands (his attention was much too short sometimes), he placed the record randomly on the shelf and scampered off to another floor of the library. When he checked the time, however, he realized that it was the end of William's shift and that the man would be leaving soon for home. Skipping a bit in his step, he immediately rushed over to the dispatch floor, giggling maniacally as he sprinted down the pristine hallways.

Pulling a small notebook out of his red jacket, he looked at the checklist of techniques he had employed so far to try and catch William's affections. Bursting into his office with various articles of lingerie had failed, so had following him home after work, and it was a wonder William hadn't keeled over with food poisoning at the treats Grell had tried to make for him. All manner of flirtation, coy touching, secret glances and suggestive banter had been completely ineffectual. The jealousy card also failed to elicit much response, though it was perhaps the most response he had gotten thus far. Last week Grell had tried to put William to the chase by stealing his glasses and running gleefully away from him, but that had failed miserably as the man seemed to have a dozen spares in his desk. He did manage to win a pair of Will's glasses though. They sat on his bedside table next to his own when he slept now.

Scrolling through the pages, he had just happened upon his next course of action when he caught sight of Joanna, one of the secretaries in General Affairs. She was heading into William's office with a small stack of papers in her hands, and Grell clicked his tongue in annoyance. He would have to wait now until the little skank came out of there. Joanna was one of those women Grell really couldn't stand. Well, he couldn't stand most women, but Joanna was a special case. This was mostly because she came into frequent contact with his William... and because she was actually quite pretty. Sure, her make-up was beyond boring, her hair was a boring shade of brown, she followed the boring dress code to a tee, but she wasn't bad-looking. Occasionally Grell had seen her trying to flirt with William, and it always took every ounce of self control not to paint her red where she stood. Just the thought of it was irking him now, and he began to tap his foot on the floor while his thoughts continued to fixate on Joanna. In addition to being somewhat pretty, she had the one major advantage Grell could never hope to achieve. Although he considered himself just as beautiful, perhaps more so, he couldn't actually compete with an actual woman's body if William was interested in women. His foot began tapping faster, his lips turning downwards into a bitter frown.

It wasn't fair.

But he didn't have to stand and take that. Deciding to burst into the office anyway to interrupt whatever womanly wiles Joanna was attempting to employ, Grell flung open the door and threw up his hands in the air, chiming,

"Will~!"

Brushing rudely past Joanna, he casually walked straight to Will's desk, walked around it, and sat gingerly on the edge of the desk right beside where William sat in his chair. Giving him a wink and a toss of his hair, he began his usual coy flirtations.

"Will, there's no overtime today, and I'm simply famished!"

Placing one dramatic hand on his forehead and the other one over his stomach, he tilted his head back as if he were swooning into unconsciousness. It was a not-so-subtle request to be taken out to dinner. Unfortunately, William could never get the subtle undertones to anything that came out of his mouth. But it wasn't as much fun to be so direct, a lady had to know how to turn a phrase. William calmly adjusted his glasses in response and cleared his throat.

"Sutcliff, I was in the middle of a meeting. I believe I've told you repeatedly that if you wish to enter my office, you must knock."

"Yes yes," Grell waved his hand disdainfully at the reminder, clearly paying it no heed whatsoever. "Since I'm sure you're almost done with your little meeting, I'll just sit and wait."

Of course his true intent was to not leave him alone with the woman in his office. It was far too scandalous. So removing himself from the edge of Will's desk, he took slow, deliberate steps around William's chair, his heels clacking firmly and shot Joanna a triumphant look before he draped himself over William's shoulders from behind, letting his crimson hair fall messily over his desk. William brushed the mass of red off of his desk and off of his papers, but made no motion to remove Grell from his person, and Grell considered this a little victory. Over the years, Grell had flirted and clung to and touched William so much that the man had given up trying to stop him. It wasn't much, but it was something, and Grell's heart did little leaps when he could manage moments like this. William cleared his throat then and continued speaking with the secretary as if he didn't have a bloody red fruit tart draped all over him.

"Thank you for arranging these damage reports Miss Briars, I realize I don't have the most cautious staff around. How long will it take to process the papers on the transfer?"

Grell's ears perked. Transfer? Who was transferring? Were they transferring in or out? It couldn't be William, could it? His head began to swim with all of the saddest possibilities. If it was either of them, how would their (almost) blossoming romance survive? But before his thoughts could get too dramatic, Joanna spoke.

"It shouldn't take more than a couple of weeks, Mr. Spears. I'll see what I can do to speed up the process."

Then she flashed him a bright smile with stupidly straight, boring teeth, and Grell felt the need to bare his own in front of her, like monkeys in the wild competing for a nesting spot. Grell had staked claim on William decades ago, she was not about to take that away.

"Thank you, Miss Briars. That will be all."

Thankfully, William dismissed her out of his office before Grell could get too worked up. As Joanna turned around, he was sure he caught sight of the slightest frown, an obvious display of jealousy. Grell felt his chest swell with achievement and couldn't stop the grin from spreading on his face. However, as soon as she left the room, he was reminded again of the exchange he had just heard.

"Will, darling, who's transferring?" He hoped his voice didn't sound too concerned, but the terrible prospect of one of them being moved was a truly unbearable.

"They're transferring me to the French Department to train their new head of Bordeaux Dispatch."

Grell's heart sank, and he felt his entire body grow cold. William was transferring? After all of the progress they had (barely) made... he was leaving? But the two of them had never been apart before. After the Academy, they had both been assigned to London, and even though William was quickly promoted so that they were less likely to work together out in the field, he still saw him everyday in the office. His lip trembled, it was the first time he had ever felt like crying.

"Of course, they're transferring someone to take my place, and thank goodness for that. I think this place would fall to pieces without someone in charge. I just hope he doesn't go easy on you all."

William continued to speak as though it were a plain and simple matter, as if he didn't care that he was leaving, as if it was absolutely nothing to be upset about. How could he not be at least a little bit upset? Even if he wasn't upset at the prospect of leaving behind his (almost) lover, shouldn't he feel at least a little sadness for leaving behind his entire Division? He had been here for ages, he had hand-selected half of his staff, London had always been his home! Didn't he feel even the slightest bit of grief? Could he be that cold? Grell removed himself slowly from William's shoulders and took a couple of steps back away from the man in his chair.

"You're leaving?" The question left his lips stupidly, as if he still couldn't believe the horrible news, as if repeating it would make William deny what he had just said, to take it all back.

"That is what I just said, Sutcliff."

The coldness, the stoicism that he normally loved in this man was beginning to be intolerable just at that moment. He wasn't the least bit upset at all, was he? Grell couldn't help himself, angry words began to hiss through his teeth.

"Do you even speak French?" He wasn't sure that would even be an issue, but perhaps William hadn't considered the little language barrier that existed in transferring beween countries.

"Yes. As Division Managers, we have to be prepared for these types of situations. I'm a bit out of practice, but I'm sure I'll get back in the hang of it soon enough."

Normally, Grell would have swooned at that point to learn that his darling William knew French, the ultimate language of Romance. Honestly, the man had so many surprises, he was one of the few people that always kept Grell guessing... But any normal reactions were simply impossible given the current circumstances. He was relentlessly unyielding!

"Why do they need you specifically?" That was a fair question, he thought. Couldn't they have the French management train their new promotion? Why in the world did they need to drag his William away?

"Their last head of management was killed in the line of duty, so the new appointment was fast and haphazard, they weren't expecting to make this promotion. This seems to happen quite frequently in France for some reason, so the higher-ups thought an outside hand with a slightly different style of training might be useful. It just happened to be me, that's all."

"It just happened to be you?" He couldn't stop the bitterness from pervading his voice. He knew deep down William was being truthful, he wouldn't lie about something like this. But his emotions were clouding his logic, as was often the case, and he couldn't help but feel like William had requested the transfer personally. Thankfully, the man would probably be unable to read the tone in his voice. He was so incapable of picking up the subtleties in someone's words. It was infurating most of the time, but right now that trait would probably save Grell from being misunderstood.

"Yes."

Grell clenched and unclenched his fists several times. So that was it then?

"Were you even going to tell us?"

"I'm sending out a memo tomorrow." Shuffling some of the papers on his desk, William tucked them into folders, then placed them carefully into the drawers in his desk.

"A memo?" Grell spat. "You wouldn't even tell us in person?"_ Coward_, he thought.

William stood from his desk, having finished his work for the day, then turned to look at Grell at last. He could see that the redhead was upset though he wasn't quite sure why. Sutcliff seemed to get upset over the tiniest things anyway, he wasn't sure if this reaction was anything worth heeding. Rolling his eyes, he sighed.

"I told you."

Grell did the only thing he knew how to do. He lashed out. So William thought he could break his heart and get away with it, did he? He thought he could just run away to France without saying a proper good-bye? If Grell hadn't come into his office today, he would have been informed of this awful news by a memo. A fucking memo. Who even did that? It was cowardly, it was cruel, it was unbearable. And as much as he wanted to cry, Grell couldn't bring himself to do so in front of another man. Violence was always better.

Blood was always more comforting than tears.

Revving up his beloved chainsaw, he lunged at William, who was at the ready with his clippers. Of course the man was always prepared. Ever since their final exam, he had never once bested William. On some level, he had never fought William seriously since then. On some level, he didn't want to win. He didn't want to know who was actually stronger. That's what made William different. He was the first man who had posed an actual challenge to him, the first man to put him in his place when everyone else had cowered. That had earned him his respect and love. And it was a love Grell had cherished ever since, however unreciprocated.

William easily parried his swing, diverting his chainsaw into the ground, where it quickly embedded itself into the carpeted floor. As Grell tried to pull it loose, William quickly countered with a swift blow to his abdomen, knocking him away from his scythe into the bookshelf against the wall. Books fell from the shelf, some falling onto his head, and he slumped to the ground with the literature. He was fighting half-heartedly still. Letting his head fall forward, his scarlet bangs masking his eyes, masking his disappointment, he remained on the ground, defeated yet again. He couldn't win, not against William. He couldn't bring himself to even try.

In the field of his vision, he saw William's perfectly polished shoes approaching, stopping when they were but a foot away from him. He heard William's voice, he did not look up.

"Honestly... You've made a mess out of my office again."

Of course that was what he cared about. Grell let out a click of annoyance, but still kept his eyes firmly fixed on the ground. He heard William sigh in exasperation above him.

"Honestly... I'm going to overlook this little outburst today Sutcliff, unacceptable as it was."

A flash of white appeared in Sutcliff's vision, William had tossed him his handkerchief.

"Clean yourself up, take your scythe, and go home."

Grell stumbled to his feet, then lazily wrenched his scythe free before running out of the room. At the door, he stopped, then turned his head slightly.

"You're such a cold man."


	2. Words of Parting

**A/N**: For chapter titles and for future chapter content, credit goes to the wonderful JoannaMC21 for providing me with the French translations.

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><p>Words of Parting<p>

Death gods were not above gossip, by any means. Their personalities, life habits, even social relationships were remarkably similar to humans. As neutral beings who presided over death between angels and demons, maybe that was to be expected. In any case, that particular morning, the office was abuzz with gossip on all levels. It was 10:00 in the morning, the workday began at 9:00. And on the Dispatch floor, whispers were shared between desks at the odd behavior Grell Sutcliff was displaying. For the first time in ages, he had shown up to work on time, a feat that some of the younger dispatch members had never witnessed. But then there was the fact that the normally flamboyant reaper didn't look nowhere near as dressed up as he usually was. The normal, glossy sheen that usually graced his hair was dull, and the majority of it had been pulled back into a haphazard ponytail. He wore almost no make-up; there were no false eyelashes or lipstick or even the slightest hints of eyeshadow. Sure the red coat was there, but it wasn't hanging about at his elbows, it was pulled up properly around his shoulders, the way a coat was meant to be worn. All of this was strange enough, but perhaps the crowning jewel of this spectacle was the fact that Grell Sutcliff was currently seated firmly at his desk, working, and had been working for the past hour. He had worked diligently, quietly, without pause and without complaint.

Between the people who didn't speak to Grell very much, there were nothing but hushed whispers and speculations. Perhaps he had been rejected by some man he was doting on, perhaps he was finally coming to his senses about proper work etiquette. To Ronald Knox however, the endless whispers were becoming unbearable. It wasn't that he was above gossip and chit-chat necessarily, he knew plenty of dirt about his coworkers and heard plenty more from the various women he surrounded himself with. But this was different. Gossiping about scandals at the bar was one thing, seeing a visibly upset coworker at work and doing nothing to offer help or consolation was another. And Grell Sutcliff was one of his favorite senior staff. Yes he frequently gave him some amount of trouble, but for all his trouble, he was still one of the funnest people to work with. So Ronald wandered over to Grell's desk, casually leaning up against it and folding his arms against his chest loosely.

"What's got you down today?" Ronald wasn't going to bother with small talk. He knew Grell could hear the whispers all around him and could feel the fingers pointed at his back. Any attempts to make normal conversation would be automatically suspicious, and he would probably take it as an insult on top of it. He knew that Grell did not appreciate being pandered to.

But Grell gave no response, pausing in his work only to look up at Ronald and give him a mild glare. At that moment, Ronald could see that the red-haired reaper probably didn't get much sleep last night. He might have also been crying for most of it. Not only were there signs of bags under his eyes, his eyes were also red and slightly swollen, something had clearly upset him quite a bit. He also noticed only then that the scent of perfume that normally graced Grell's personal space was slightly tinted with alcohol. So he had been out drinking too. Poking at his nose with his gloved hand, Ronald ventured a guess.

"You're not upset about 'Sebby-darling,' are you?"

The glare was repeated, this time accompanied by a noise of annoyance. Ronald wasn't sure if that was a yes or a no to his question, it it was even an answer at all. Either he was on the money and something had happened between his senior and the Phantomhive butler demon, or he was completely off and Grell did not appreciate the implications that came with the question. Truthfully speaking, Ronald knew it couldn't have anything to do with the demon. Grell had received nothing but constant rejection from the butler in question, and that had never gotten him depressed in the past. Ronald was somewhat certain that the flirting was mostly for fun and wasn't anything serious at all. But he wasn't really sure what else could have happened to get Grell so down. When he really thought about it, he didn't know that much about his senior to begin with. It's not as if he confided in him about his deepest thoughts or anything.

Just as he was about to venture another guess, he caught sight of his other senior, Eric Slingby strolling towards him with a folded paper in his hand. The man gave a wave when he was a few paces away from them, a wave which Ronald returned. Stopping once he had reached the both of them, he waved the paper in the air by his head.

"Hey Ron, Grell, have either of you read this memo?"

Ronald shook his head, he hadn't checked his inbox that morning. Beside him, Grell's tongue clicked in annoyance once again, and his head lowered even further as if he wanted to fall into his paperwork to hide himself. So he was upset about the memo, was he? Curious, Ron asked about its contents.

"Nope, what does it say?"

"It says Spears is going to be in France for five months."

Whatever response Ronald was going to come up with was completely overrun by Grell's reaction. The redhead had stood up abruptly, knocking his chair over behind him and had turned to Eric with fury in his eyes. His hair was practically bristling and his fists were clenched tight beside him, his voice shriller than usual when he spoke.

"Five months?" His face was a mixture of shock and relief, his tone filled with utter disbelief at what he had just heard.

Eric had stepped back slightly, holding the memo in between himself and Sutcliff as some sort of makeshift shield and shrugged at him.

"That's what it says. Apparently he's gotta go train some new division manager,and in the meantime, we're getting a temporary division leader too."

Grell could not believe the relief that was coursing through his veins at that moment. Eric was continuing to talk, but his own thoughts drowned out Eric's voice. _He was only going to be gone for five months. _It wasn't permanent. That was why he hadn't been upset about leaving. Grell's eyes wandered to Will's office door, and he felt if he strained his eyes hard enough, he could probably make out the outline of the man working at his desk behind the closed door. Come to think of it, William had never explicitly said that the switch was permanent, Grell had only jumped to conclusions. His conclusions were almost never right with William. The man only ever said the bare minimum that needed to be said. You had to ask if you wanted more. And when Grell stopped to think about it now, it made more and more sense. He was only leaving to train the new division management. Training positions were always temporary, there was no way he could continue doing such a task for an extended period of time. On top of which, it was France. If William were going to be assigned to another division for good, it would have to be somewhere else in Britain. This was only temporary, this was only going to be for five months.

Feeling the corners of his mouth drift upward into the familiar grin that he usually wore perpetually, Grell let his jacket drop off of his shoulders onto his elbows. Feeling the diva in him wipe away her teary eyes and regain some of her former confidence, he let down his ponytail with a flourish, and let out a pleased sigh. Dismissing Eric and Ronald, who were still talking, he walked straight away from them and straight towards William's door. Opening the door with a flourish-he would never knock-he glided across the floor to Will's desk. Once he got there, he leaned forward and down, placing his elbows on the desk and resting his head upon his hands.

"Oh, Will~"

William didn't even bother to look up. Continuing to sign the papers at his desk with his usual pace and work ethic, he merely gave a small wave of his hand to indicate that he acknowledged Grell's presence in the room. Judging by the tone in Sutcliff's voice, he was no longer as upset as he had been since he heard he news yesterday. Grell took the wave as an indication to continue, though even without it he would have carried on at his own pace anyway.

"Will, you tricked me." The teasing was back, and Grell gave a small mock pout to go along with it.

"I did no such thing." William's response was as terse as ever, unflinching as he approved, signed, and stacked the papers at his desk.

"Yes you did. I thought you were leaving us for good, not for five months." Of course this was Grell's own misconception, not any real mistake on William's part, but he would never admit to that. The unspoken concern he had had yesterday was implied. _ I attacked you yesterday because I thought you were leaving me for good._

William raised an eyebrow at the statement, pausing for only the briefest of moments in his scribbling.

"I cannot help what you misunderstood. As I said earlier, I did not trick you. And yes, it is only a temporary position, I will return after five months time." The slight pause he had taken indicated some surprise on his part. He had not expected Grell to be so concerned with his leaving, nor had he expected such a violent reaction because Grell thought that he was leaving permanently. It was curious behavior on Grell's part. It was also seriously misguided, but that much was to be expected. William had long since become accustomed to the redhead's fondness for violence.

"So cruel to a lady..." were the words that left Grell's mouth, but his tone was soft and warm, his eyes looking at him tenderly as a playful grin graced his features. He leaned in closer and batted his eyelashes at the working man. He loved watching William work. Everything he did was so controlled, so precise, every signature he made was perfectly identical to the one before it, every stroke of his pen moved swiftly and flourished only as much as necessary. His handwriting was quite neat, Grell had always been impressed with William's surprisingly beautifuly penmanship. The soft rise and fall of his chest as he breathed steadily was in rhythm, coordinating with the swish and flick of papers and scribbling. But of course Grell's favorite was the steadiness in that handsome face. He had to admit that, at first, he had thought William rather plain, but eventually that feature of his grew to be a charming asset as well. Sometimes simplicity spoke volumes in and of itself. It was only when you took the time to look closely that you would notice the utter handsomeness in William's features. And only those who took their time with this man would deserve him. Grell deserved him. Leaning in closer, he sighed dreamily and the slightest blush crept to his cheeks.

"Such a handsome man..." he whispered, hoping William would one day return the compliments he so generously showered upon the other man. Someday he would notice in return his beauty and perhaps take it for his own. Unfortnately, at that current moment, the only thing William noticed was the scent of alcohol in the whiff of Grell's breath that passed between them, and he finally looked up to shoot a scolding look at the redhead leaning over his desk.

"Sutcliff, were you drinking this morning?"

"Last night! What do you expect, I was distraught!" He clapped a hand over his mouth in slight embarrassment, but retorted nevertheless.

"And what, did you sleep at the bar so that you couldn't even brush your teeth before coming in to work this morning?"

"That is all beside the point, how can you accuse me of doing such graceless things?"

"Come to think of it, you're not nearly as flashy as you usually are." Taking a closer look at the face inches from his own, he finally took note of Grell's slightly disheveled appearance and furrowed his eyebrows slightly. It might have been out of concern or curiosity, perhaps confusion.

Grell drew back immediately, clapping his gloved hands over his face in shame. Of course, the one day that William would take the time to notice anything about his looks it would be the day that he hadn't tried in the slightest to make himself look beautiful! And now that he thought about it, Grell realized just how little he had done this morning to get ready. He hadn't bothered to flip out all of his topmost layer of hair, and he had no eyeshadow or mascara, and he had even left off his eyelashes! No lipstick, only the slightest amount of foundation... oh, he must look like an absolute wreck! How had he forgotten that he came to work today looking so unacceptable? How had he thought it would have been okay to appear in front of William like this? He squirmed where he stood, his face still masked and began to whine muffled complaints. He wondered if it would be best to go back home after all and come back once he had made himself look like a proper lady.

William sighed and tossed a pen in Grell's direction to get his attention amongst his stationary wiggling.

"Enough."

"Don't say it, Will, don't look!" The words were somewhat intelligible now that Grell had removed his hands from his mouth, but he was still hiding his face like an idiot. "I'll just go back home and freshen up and come back, okay?"

"You will do no such thing. There is work to be done and you are not leaving until you finish it. As a matter of fact..." he checked his watch. "You have field work in about half an hour. You are staying put."

His verdict resulted in a moan of misery from the redhead who slumped his shoulders in complete and utter disappointment. He would even have to go out in public like this! What if anyone else saw? What if he ran into Sebby while he was out working? Oh he'd never live it down. But then again, Sebby darling had seen him when he had been masquerading as the meek butler Grell Sutcliff. Surely it couldn't be much worse after that. Amongst his rambling thoughts, he heard William speaking once again.

"In any case, you look fine."

Grell's drawn-out moan was cut off abruptly by the words that had just left William's lips.

"Eh?"

William's eyes had returned to his work, and he was back to the incessant scribbling of the paper-pushing job he had, but he spoke.

"Better than fine. You look much better without all of that nonsense on your face, now get back to work."

"EHH!"

Grell couldn't think of what else he could say in response other than shriek in disbelief. William had just complimented him! It was the first time that William had ever uttered anything resembling a kind word or encouragement in his direction, and it had been about his current, horrid appearance! Not only was it a thinly veiled compliment, what he said was truly kind, it was the sort of thing a true lover would say: I love you just as you are. Your natural beauty is what I love most. You don't have to put on pretenses for me. Oh, William was such an awful tease! How dare he make Grell's heart flutter like so as he was about to leave! Never mind that he hadn't said anything about love or beauty, but Grell felt that those undertones were present nevertheless. He could hear in his ears how William's sultry voice would sound uttering such phrases, and he couldn't help the giddyness that overtook him.

"Oh Will~!" He flew around the man's desk and, without asking, seated himself in William's lap, wrapping his arms around his neck and clinging to the man. "I never knew you could be so romantic!"

Unfortunately, his embrace was cut immediately short by a swift whack to his cranium, delivered by nothing other than William's horrid death scythe. Releasing his hold around William's neck, Grell's hands flew to his head, massaging the forming lump and crying out in misery. But even his cries of pain were cut short as William unceremoniously pushed him out of his lap onto the floor, where he then lay sprawled in an unattractive heap. Thankfully, the punishment ended there, and William delivered no more blows.

"If that's all, back to work Sutcliff."

Whimpering slightly but climbing reluctantly to his feet, Grell pouted.

"Will... a gentleman is not supposed to treat a lady this way you know."

"I don't claim to be a gentleman, now back to work."

Putting a hand to his hips, Grell gave a huff of mock annoyance and insisted on further teasing. As sado-masochistic as he was, he delighted in William's demeanor. It just wasn't any fun if there was no chase involved. And this chase was one that Grell had pursued for a century at least. It would be all that more sweet when he would finally be able to claim his prize.

"Well, at least I know no lewd French woman will steal you away with that sort of behavior."

"You're babbling nonsense again."

"Come to think of it, you're probably going to be pretty lonely once you're in France..."

"I highly doubt-"

"Hey Will, give me your address. I'll write to you everyday to make sure you won't go crazy!"

William slammed his hands down on his desk at last, a small twitch of irritation on his eyebrow, shutting up Grell's incessant babbling.

"Considering that it's usually your inane drabble that drives me crazy, I will welcome whatever silence France has to offer. Now."

He got up from his desk and grabbed Grell's shoulders with both hands.

"Get."

He swiftly turned them around, then forcefully walked him to the door of his office.

"Back."

He shoved him out of his office and back into the general work area, and Grell stumbled slightly over his heels.

"To Work."

Then the door was slammed shut behind him, and when Grell returned to open the door, he discovered it was locked. No amount of shaking or jarring would open the knob, and unless he wanted to pull out his beloved chainsaw and slice the door in half, he probably wouldn't let be back in for quite a while.

"Ah~ Such a cold man..."

* * *

><p>AN: I really have a lot of fun writing the banter that occurs between these two, I wonder if maybe every chapter will end with the phrase "such a cold man?"


	3. Lettres d'amour

**A/N**: For chapter titles and for future chapter content, credit goes to the wonderful JoannaMC21 for providing me with the French translations.

The next chapter or two will contain the letters going back and forth between Grell and William. Well, more from Grell to William and not so much the other way around, but I thought that it would be fun to write some of the contents of the many dozens of letters Grell would write for his favorite man.

* * *

><p><em>Lettres d'amour<em>

William Darling,

You still haven't sent me any word from Bordeaux, but I'm sure it's just that you're incredibly busy with your training during the day and working on your French in the evenings. Hopefully the language isn't giving you too much trouble, I know how hard it must be for you to be unable to communicate your thoughts and feelings. This is of course, why you should write me back and confide those thoughts and feelings in your beloved Grell. On top of which, when you come back to me, you should speak French to me dearest. You know it's the ultimate language of love, and therefore it's only appropriate that you make me swoon with words of longing in French.

Things around here are about as dull as can be, work drags on as usual. It's so unfair William, your replacement hasn't given me any interesting cases! Speaking of that man, William, you'll be happy to know that this lady has resisted all temptation with regards to Mr. Jean-Baptiste. I will admit that he's quite the handsome man, and very charming, perhaps to a fault. All the women are head over heels to see his natural blonde hair and hear his smooth French accent. But you know, when a man flirts with everyone the way that he does, it makes a lady question just how faithful he would really be. As I thought, cold men are the best. Just like you and Sebby.

Oh, speaking of Sebby, I ran into him the other day as I was collecting the soul of some poor sap who had thrown himself into the Thames. Now before you go pointing fingers, Sebby wasn't responsible for his death. Not directly anyway. He doesn't do anything without that stupid Phantomhive brat pulling the strings. I would tell you not to be jealous, but I have to admit I love seeing you riled. Who knows, perhaps your jealousy will spur you into action and make you commit a romantic feat like coming back here immediately to challenge Sebby for my love! Ahh~! Oh William you shouldn't neglect your work like that. You're such a bad man~

Love,

Your Grell

* * *

><p>Dear William,<p>

You'd think that Eric and Alan were married or something, the way that the two of them bicker. I didn't really catch all of their latest lover's spat, but it was the usual nonsense about Eric being overprotective and Alan being a little angst-bucket over his stupid Thorns of Death. I'm not sure why you've still kept Alan on staff knowing that. In any case, Prince Jean (that's the nickname Ronnie gave him, isn't it cute?) came to his rescue the other day, and Eric's been having a conniption about it for most of today. Honestly, don't you think Alan should be removed from field work given the circumstances? I know we're short-staffed, but if we always have Eric running off to be his partner for every little case, you're essentially employing one less person anyway.

Although sometimes I will admit I'm a little jealous of the two of them. Not that you need to come to my rescue of course, this lady can take care of herself just fine, but I wonder if you ever worry about me like that when I'm out working. Seeing as you've come to my rescue quite a few times over the past century, I think you do. It's okay, you don't have to admit it William, I just understand you better than anyone else.

Oh for crying out- Prince Jean is complaining about something or other again. Earlier today he scolded me for always writing letters to you at work instead of doing paperwork. Personally, I think he's jealous that I have a lover like you. But poor French man, he won't be receiving any of my affections, not when he's such a little fruit tart. I hope your other French co-workers aren't as insufferable as Prince Jean. Just make sure you don't fall for any of them, okay? If any one of those French skanks makes advances, you need to put them in their place by telling them of your wonderful lady back home. Got it?

Love,

Your Grell

* * *

><p>William Dear,<p>

Have you ever considered taking a few days off? I'm sure you have a stockpile of vacation days you could use. I think you should use some of them now so that you can come back and visit me for a little while. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, so I'm sure you're dying to see me again. I'm sure you're so distraught with longing for me that it's making it difficult for you to focus on your work. That's no good William, you can't do your work very well if you're always thinking about me. Therefore, it's actually in your best interest to come back for a little while.

I suppose I should mention that the others miss you too. It's clear why Eric doesn't like having Prince Jean around. He could always trust a cold man like you to not make advances on his precious Alan. And why would you, you've got this lovely lady. Ronnie doesn't like having a competing ladies man around, I think. Some of the ladies he's been flirting with in General Affairs have switched over to the French side of the river. Hussies really, but then again, Ronnie is a little playboy as it is, so it's not as if he really deserves a virtuous woman like yours truly for himself. I think it's the blue eyes personally.

Oh, I don't think I've told you! Prince Jean wears blank prescription glasses with blue colored-contacts! Isn't it the most absurd thing you've ever heard? Do your other French coworkers do silly things like that? Honestly, it's a mockery of the most treasured asset a Death God can have. We get our customized glasses before our death scythes, for goodness' sake. And they're such a hideous pair of glasses too. Honestly, if you're only going to wear them for show, you might as well get yourself a decent pair. But the frames are utterly hideous. Come to think of it William, I have one of your spare pairs of glasses sitting on my dresser at home. Your glasses are such a bland, simple design, but I suppose that's just like you. Though maybe I wouldn't necessarily describe you as being bland, just more to you than meets the eye. Pun intended.

Since I have one of your spare pairs, maybe I should send you one of mine. Oh, it's like we're exchanging wedding rings! Isn't it romantic darling? I'm so glad I thought of it. I'm sure you're thrilled as well. You must have been too shy to ask me for them all these years, but not to worry. Your Grell understands the kind of man you are so you don't have to say a word.

Love,

Grell

p.s. Do take those vacation days I recommended.

* * *

><p>William scoffed at the latest letter that had been sent his way from London and looked at the pair of glasses that came with the letter. They were the atrociously bright shade of red he could recognize from a mile away with skulls at the joints and a chain to keep them from falling off of you completely. Although really, the chain wouldn't even be necessary if he just wore them properly on his face instead of lower on the bridge of his nose. How unnecessary was his prescription anyway? William removed his own glasses and placed them on his desk, holding up Grell's frames up to his eyes. It was hardly an improvement to his normal terrible vision, Grell's prescription was weak indeed. As he was examining something in the corner of his office, the door opened, and his assistant walked in. William hurriedly threw the glasses back down onto the desk and picked up his own frames, quickly replacing them to their proper place on his face and cleared his throat to dispel the awkward situation he had just been caught in.<p>

His assistant raised his eyebrow at him and handed him a few papers, commenting,

"Sont ceux nouveaux verres?" (Are those new glasses?)

William cleared his throat more gruffly than before.

"Absolument non. Un collègue ridicule mien leur a envoyé de Londres." (Absolutely not. A ridiculous colleague of mine sent them from London.)

His assistant raised a knowing eyebrow and winked at him.

"Oh je vois, de votre petite amie. Je comprends." (Oh I see, from your girlfriend. I understand.)

William opened his mouth to protest but the young man was already gone, no doubt off to tell the other staff of his new discovery. William sighed. Honestly... the staff here were more gossipy than his staff in London. Most of the time it was obnoxiously annoying, but there were times when he had to admit that it led to a certain warmth that had made it much easier for him to settle in in his first few weeks. It was a rather small factor, but it did make it feel more like home.

When he had first arrived, his assistant had run at him with a welcome basket and immediately kissed his cheeks. Although William had always known that it was a standard French greeting, it still took him by enormous surprise, and he had very nearly brandished his death scythe at the poor young man, who introduced himself as Jacques. He was around Knox's age, just as friendly, though certainly not as outgoing with the women. During his time in France thus far, Jacques had been his closest colleague, although he spent most of his time with his new trainee.

Also in the past few weeks he had set up his office, gotten to know the staff on his floor, begun training the new management-to-be, Philippe, and been given a tour of Bordeaux. On some level, William felt he had gotten much less work done in the past few weeks but it was mostly because he didn't have as much paperwork to do. His main job here was training, not actual managemet, not as much paperwork, not even dispatch. So technically, he was getting done everything that needed to be done. It just happened to be a lot less than what he was used to.

In addition to the staff, another factor that made Bordeaux feel not too far from home was the mail. Practically every other day, Jacques came into his office with a new letter from Grell Sutcliff. And since Jacques had the similar tendency to never knock before entering, it was almost like being back in London and having the redhead burst into his office every morning. William wasn't quite sure how Grell had managed to write so many letters, but one of his desk drawers was already filled with almost two dozen letters.

He wasn't quite sure why he actually bothered to read all of them. It probably had more to do with his abundant free time than anything else. He had yet to write one back, but regardless of his lack of response, Grell continued to write to him. And every single one of his envelopes was sealed with a kiss, evidenced by the lipstick. It didn't matter how much William tried to deny it, Jacques was convinced that he had a lover back in London. Not that it really mattered if he misunderstood, it had nothing to do with his work, but there were times when Jacques would ask about what "she" was like or how "she" dealt with his stoic, uncompromising behavior. He had given up resisting and merely resorted to rolling his eyes at all of Jacques' questions and assumptions. William T. Spears was not a man who got embarrassed, and he certainly wasn't about to get embarrassed over something that was grounded in complete fiction.

But as delusional as Jacques was, Grell was even more misguided, referring to him as his lover, his darling, his dear, the list went on and on and on... William adjusted his glasses. And exactly when had that been decided? Ever since their final exam, Grell had clung to him like a barnacle to a whale and had constantly insisted on making innuendos about the two of them that were not based in reality. William moved to adjust his glasses once again and paused as his fingers lightly brushed against the frames. He no longer owed Grell for saving him during their final exam, but it didn't mean that he stopped feeling grateful for it. That was also one of those things he would never admit aloud.

Absentmindedly, he put Grell's glasses into the drawer with all of the letters he had received from him. He certainly wasn't going to be wearing them, nor was he going to put them on display like some gaudy ornament. As he looked at the glasses sitting in the drawer, he was reminded of when they had first gotten their customized glasses from Big Daddy after their exam.

_Grell had been clinging to his arm the entire way to the glasses department, talking nonstop about the different kinds of glasses he could get. And when they had finally gotten to the department, he had finally let to go fling himself at the shelves of models, squealing in delight at all of the various frames. For every red one he cackled with delight, trying them all on meticulously and running over to William to ask how he looked in them. William's response had been to shrug at every single one of the ones he had been shown. Honestly... what did it matter what they looked like so long as he could see out of them properly?_

_As for himself, he was browsing the shelves trying on different frames to see which ones fit the most comfortably on his face. And even though he was mentally berating Grell for concerning himself too much with the appearances of the frames, he still had to admit to himself that the appearance did matter at least a little bit. After all, he wouldn't be caught dead wearing some of the ones that Grell was trying on, which meant that he had to care at least a little bit for the overall aesthetic. Finally he had settled on a rectangular pair, nestled in a titanium frame with diagonal etchings along the temples. As they settled in perfectly on the bridge of his nose, Grell had leapt towards him with yet another pair he had grabbed._

_"Will~! What do you think of- Oh! Oh wow, those really suit you!" he had said._

_William had touched his fingertips to the frames then, oddly self conscious about them on his face now. In the smallest corner of his inner thoughts, he was more than a little pleased at the result. Then he caught sight of the red frames that Grell held in his hands. When Grell followed his gaze, he was reminded of why he had rushed over to William in the first place and promptly placed them on his face._

_"What do you think? I like that they sit a little lower, personally."_

_For reasons he still couldn't explain, William recalled that he had thought precisely the same thing. They did look a little better that way. Then they had taken them to Big Daddy who adjusted them with paper-thin precision so that they fit absolutely perfectly, and added the chain and skulls that Grell had requested for his. Handing them an extra pair each, he had told them to take good care of their glasses, they were precious treasures. A Death God's personality could be read by the glasses he chose, they were a part of them in many ways._

William peered at Grell's glasses in the drawer. Big Daddy wasn't wrong. Those glasses really did scream Grell Sutcliff's name from their place in the drawer. The chains had only added to the ridiculousness, or rather, flair.

Then there was a knock at the door and Philippe poked his head into his office tentatively.

"Monsieur Spears, serons-nous commencés pour aujourd'hui?" (Mr. Spears, shall we get started for today?)

"Ah oui, monsieur Chevalier. Je serai sorti dans une minute." (Ah yes, Mr. Chevalier. I'll be out in a minute.)

Tucking Grell's latest letter into the envelope in which it came, William was about to toss it into the drawer with the others before he took one more look at the glasses. Sighing to himself, he pulled out a stationery sheet and placed Grell's latest letter atop it. When he was finished here today, he would make a note to write him a response letter. After a month and twenty letters, a response couldn't be that hard to write, could it?


	4. Team Player

**A/N**: For chapter titles and for future chapter content, credit goes to the wonderful JoannaMC21 for providing me with the French translations.

* * *

><p>Team Player<p>

To Grell Sutcliff,

Stop writing letters and get back to work. Honestly... I refuse to be the reason for your slacking off. I will never cease to be amazed at just how much useless gossip you have managed to squeeze into these letters. In any case, it's only been a month, and one of my desk drawers is already full b/c of your letters and your glasses. Since there are four months left to my stay, I demand you slow down on the current rate of mail.

Sincerely,

William T. Spears

* * *

><p>Grell was ecstatic, no, more than ecstatic. He was beyond giddy, his heart was going to pound straight out of his chest, he could feel it. His William had finally written a response! He had pranced around the office like an imbecile when he had seen the letter sitting in his inbox, squealing with joy. He had even sat in his chair for a good while, almost unwilling to open it for fear of ruining the perfection of the envelope. After all, it had been been sealed by- Grell had to put a hand to his nose immediately to avoid staining his paperwork with blood. When he thought of the fact that the letter he held in his hand had been sealed by William... had been <em>licked<em> and sealed by _his_ William... Oh it was too much.

But after some time, he had finally calmed down enough to open the letter at last. Although it had only taken him about a few seconds to read the entire letter, he was still excited by the time he had finished reading. For some reason beyond his expectations, it was perfect. His perfect penmanship, the coldness of the contents, the brevity of his thoughts, but most of all... Most of all, the fact that William had taken the time out of his busy schedule to finally write a response, it was all perfect. He had to share his joy. Grinning madly at the letter in his hands, he planted a kiss on William's perfectly scrawled name and leapt up from his desk, startling some of the nearby dispatch members.

Prancing over to Ronald's desk, he waved the paper in front of the young death god's eyes, then clutched it to his chest with a dreamy sigh and whispered, as if it were some dastardly scandalous secret,

"Will wrote me a letter~"

Ronald gave Grell a raised eyebrow in response, before leaning back in his chair with a half grin. Watching Grell squirm in his desk from across the way had been amusing, but now that he knew that Grell's excitement was for something so tiny, he really wanted to laugh aloud. He knew he shouldn't laugh, but the most control he could muster still allowed a small chuckle to escape with his words.

"That's hardly a letter, Mr. Sutcliff. Really more like a memo."

"It's a letter, Ronnie! Look at how formally he signed his name, this is a bona fide love letter from my darling William." Grell pouted, pursing his lips out at Ronald.

"If you say so, but what does it even say?"

Grell held the letter out in front of Ronald's eyes again, this time allowing him time to read the actual contents and frowned deeply when Ronald did nothing but laugh aloud once again.

"Mr. Sutcliff, all he's saying is for you to get back to work! That doesn't qualify as a love letter at all!"

"What doesn't qualify as a love letter?" Eric asked curiously as he and Alan wandered over to Ronald's desk. Clearly none of them felt like doing their paperwork and were more curious to know why Grell had been practically screaming all morning at his desk.

Grinning, the braided man rested an elbow on Ronald's shoulder and leaned over to read the letter Grell was still holding out. When Eric also let out a snort of laughter, Grell pulled it back from their disdainful eyes and clutched it to his chest once again. None of them understood just how romantic it was!

"Wow, that's a shitty love letter if I ever saw one, and I'm pretty bad at writing things like that." Eric laughed and ruffled his hair some, shooting a knowing glance at Alan who merely returned it with a knowing glance of his own. Not that he had ever personally tried to write a love letter to Alan, but he was sure that he was less than eloquent, and that it would turn into an unmitigated disaster. Alan would probably still enjoy it though, and he would certainly appreciate the thought. Trying to clear the thought from his head, Eric then clapped Ronald on the shoulder and winked at the younger death god.

"Ron here should give Spears some pointers about how to write a proper love letter. I bet this little playboy writes them all the time for about five different women at once."

Ronald grinned cheekily in response.

"Please, Eric. It's really more around three."

The two of them laughed, and Alan and Grell both rolled their eyes exasperatedly. Alan wasn't really sure how Ronald got away with being a notorious playboy around the office, but somehow the women he courted really didn't seem to mind. It was a different generational mindset, perhaps, that found monogamy so boring, but that was besides the point. Grell on the other hand, was determined to prove them wrong.

"Ronnie's infidelities aside, this is a perfectly romantic love letter, you guys just don't know how to read William properly. Honestly..." he continued, adjusting his glasses and imitating Will's most frequently used phrase, "...and you call yourself his employees?"

Eric whistled, pretending to be impressed and waved his hand at Grell.

"All right then, what about that is so romantic then?"

Grell pulled back slightly, all of a sudden at a slight loss for words. Looking over the letter in his hands, he re-read it a few more times trying to pin out something that would be considered romantic to the others.

"Well... to start, he took the time out of his busy day to write this for me in the first place. To be honest, I wasn't expecting any responses from him at all." The last part he said under his breath, though he knew they could still hear him.

"Well he didn't take very much time, did he? It's so short, it might as well be a memo." Eric quickly retaliated.

"That's what I said!" Ronald chimed in and Alan clapped them both upside the head.

"You two are horrible."

Grell shot a thankful look in Alan's direction. Spurred by the support of even just one person, he found renewed vigor and determination in his task and scanned the letter briefly again before finding more to it.

"Here he mentions the gossip I wrote to him..."

"Which I'm sure he really doesn't care about..." Eric interrupted, but Grell hissed at him, and he put his hands up in defeat and clamped his lips shut. He made a mocking zipper motion over his lips to indicate his promise for continued silence.

"...which _means_ that he's read my letters. All of them. How else would be know their contents?"

Eric waved his hands, as if to allow Grell this one small victory but his face was proof that he remained unconvinced. Grell then realized the next sentence was probably the best one to prove his point.

"And look here! It says that one of his desk drawers is already full with my letters, which means that he's not only reading them, he's keeping them! Safeguarding them as treasured keepsakes forever and ever, that's what he's doing with them!"

Grell sighed dreamily, having only realized this little revelation only because the others forced him to look for it and now that he had, it was even more perfect. There was more thought to the letter after all, even more than he had initially realized, and it was raining butterflies in his stomach to think about it. He could just imagine it, he could see it clearly in his mind's eye... William sitting at his desk, tired and worn after a long day at work, probably irritated with his French co-workers, needing a relief for his stress. Lo and behold, his eyes catch sight of his desk drawer, maybe with a key in it so that no one else could accidentally peek in and see this scandal... He opens it with a soft smile on his face, seeing the letters that his beloved wrote to him, happy to have them to keep him company in a strange new place, happy to have them make it feel a little more like home... Maybe he'd remove one from the drawer and place a gentle kiss on the envelope, over the kiss mark that Grell himself had left... Grell had been so preoccupied with his day-dream that he failed to notice the others talking until Ronald finally tapped him on the leg.

"-right, Mr. Sutcliff?" Ronald had said.

"Hmm? What?" Grell snapped out of his daze.

"I said, you and the Boss were in the Academy together, right?"

Oh, and more memories were sparked! Grell clutched the paper tight to his chest as he remembered those days as well... when he had first met his beloved man. He was sure he had told the story a million times to anyone who was new to the division branch. Then he remembered that Eric had been around for longer than any of them, so Eric would not have been blessed with the story, as he was never a newcomer in Grell's eyes. This was made more obvious when Eric raised an eyebrow at him and asked to clarify.

"You and Spears were in the same year?"

"Of course! We were... _partners_," he accentuated the word carefully, "for the final exam."

Eric's face remained incredulous as he listened.

"Oh really, now what's that look for?"

"Well, it's just kind of rare. They don't really put people in the same year into the same division. For example, I'm not working with anyone from my year in the academy. Usually they distribute the new death gods so that they're evenly spaced at all the different branches, which means you don't get to stick with your classmates."

Ronald and Alan nodded, realizing that they were also the only ones from their particular year or class in the Academy to be working in London. Only when Eric mentioned it did the realization dawn on the others as well. But Grell only had a sly smile to offer in response, teasing,

"Oh, a lady has her ways to get what she wants..."

The other three shot each other a mutual look of understanding and curiosity, knowing that surely Grell had done something extremely unorthodox to end up in the London division with Spears. The question was whether he had done it with violence or with sex appeal. They only knew for certain that they weren't about to ask, not out of politeness, but because they really were afraid of the answer. Instead Eric had another question on his mind.

"So what attracted you to Spears anyway? He's kind of your polar opposite."

Alan and Ronald both gave Eric mild looks of surprise but then turned their attention to Grell, eager for him to answer the question that was asked. It was clearly a question they had all been curious about for some time, and Eric had been the one to find the perfect opportunity in which to ask it. Asking Grell was also a better bet than asking William, which would surely earn them copious amounts of overtime for their insolence. Grell was eating up the attention, of course, happy to tell them exactly why he loved his darling William so very very much.

"Oh, it's impossible to expect a lady to explain her feelings, Eric!" Here Grell put a delicate hand to his cheek, even springing up one of his legs behind him to appear more feminine. "It's a number of reasons, really. After all, he is such a wonderfully cold man..."

He gave another dreamy sigh, and Ronald gave a small snort of amusement.

"So you like him because he doesn't like you?"

"That's not true, I'm sure, deep down, he's infatuated with me as well, he just doesn't realize it yet. In any case, it's all about the chase, Ronnie."

And here he gave a scandalous wink, and Ronald raised an eyebrow, but mentally, he had to admit that he kind of agreed with Grell. The women who flocked to him with flirts and praises were flattering, and he certainly wasn't going to turn them away, but it was always more exciting to chase after a woman who was playing hard to get. He supposed it was something about the challenge, it was something Grell obviously appreciated as well, perhaps to a sinful degree. But Alan seemed apprehensive.

"But then, does that mean you'll lose interest once you've, I guess, _caught_ him?"

Grell paused for a second, placing his index finger on his chin, as if considering the question, when in truth, he had the answer already. The answer was absolutely not. Somehow, William had wormed his way in, no matter how much he had initially fought it, he was completely different, entirely special, all too precious to let go. But it wasn't any fun if he didn't keep the others guessing. So he merely gave a sly grin, tilted his head with a lopsided grin, and sang out,

"Oh, we'll just have to see, won't we?"

But whatever response Alan might have had to that was immediately stifled when he saw their new division manager, Jean-Baptiste Laroche, walking up behind Grell towards them with a slightly stern expression on his face.

"Vat eez going on here?"

Eric and Ronald immediately dropped their heads, looking away rather conspicuously, Alan didn't break gaze but shut his mouth quite tight, and Grell merely shot him a glare. It wasn't a surprise to anyone how much he disliked their new manager. Jean merely looked at Grell down his nose with raised eyebrows, then spoke.

"Slackeeng off again, Meester, Sutcleef? All-vays zee same with you. I don't know how Villiam Spears ran zings around here, but all of you need to get back to vork!"

"Don't talk about William like that, you puffed up, French poodle!" Grell's eyes were flashing. He disliked the man as it was already, he wasn't about to let him badmouth William on top of his own pompous behavior. "You're always flirting with the women in the other departments, maybe you should get back to work before you lecture us."

It was something of a low blow, and Jean-Baptiste was clearly not amused. Catching sight of the letter Grell was clinging to, he snorted.

"Vat eez zat? Anuzzer letter to Villiam? How pathetic, he never even writes you back!"

Snatching the letter from Grell's grasp, he held it arrogantly between his fingers and began to read it aloud, raising his eyebrows at first when he realized it was actually from William, but the smirk returned as soon as he had finished reading the contents. Laughing, he carelessly tossed the paper back to Grell, who dove to catch it, not wanting to let William's precious letter touch the floor.

"Ha! He does not even care about you!"

Grell opened his mouth to retaliate but was immediately stifled by the continuation of Jean's words.

"Even he wrote to tell you to get back to vork, knowing vat a slacker you are. Zis... zis nonsense is why you write your silly letters on company time?"

"Hey, that's a bit-"

"Quiet, Knox."

Ronald's interjection was quickly stifled by Jean-Baptiste, who was in no mood to entertain outside interference to this argument. At this point, it wasn't even about going back to work, he wanted to put Sutcliff in his place. All he ever did was prance around the office like he owned the place, as if he were the boss, and since Jean's arrival, he had not shown him an ounce of proper respect and deference. Jean had come up with a number of different hypotheses for how William T. Spears had dealt with such behavior. On the one hand, it was possible that Grell Sutcliff was honestly very well behaved around William. There was the other possibility that William himself had simply not known how to handle him. But when he had realized that Grell was spending every other day sitting at his desk not doing paperwork but writing letters to his former superior, Jean dared to entertain the idea of them being lovers. But this letter was surely proof that no such relationship existed between them, it only existed in Grell's mind. And that gave him perhaps more satisfaction than it should have. But that was besides the point.

"Here I thought you vere some kind of big-shot, but really, you're just a love-sick fool."

Grell clung to his letter, biting down on his lip, his eyes not visible under his bangs. Ronald could feel the tension building between the two and knew that any moment, Grell might rev up his chainsaw and go after Jean. And that would surely get him transferred, or fired, or worse. Grell Sutcliff was not one to hold back his anger or irritation, and Jean knew nothing of his murderous streak as the better half of Jack the Ripper. Rising from his chair quickly, Ronald hurried over to Grell's side and held his arm back, feeling how much the red reaper was trembling. Inserting himself into the argument whether Jean wanted him to or not, he raised his chin in defiance.

"What of it? That's none of your business. _Sir_." The last word was punctuated with particular disdain and a narrowing of his eyes.

Jean was slightly taken aback by the sudden rise of support from Ronald Knox, who had been one of his better employees in the duration of his stay in London. He had not expected that the other employees would actually defend the redhead, as he had assumed that he got on their nerves as much as he got on his own. Clearly he had been at least a little mistaken. Scoffing, he rolled his eyes and decided the argument wasn't worth continuing.

"In any case, get back to vork, all of you!"

Then turning on his heel, he stormed into his office, slamming the door behind him like a petulant child, leaving the others looking after him incredulously and with at least a little bit of contempt.

"Who does he think he is? Doesn't he get that he's the outsider here?" Eric sighed and remarked, his eyes passing over Grell, whose eyes were still adamantly glued to the floor. Walking over to the both of them, he gave Grell a light clap on the shoulder and grinned. "Nice self control there, I was sure you would have gone and killed him after that first comment."

"It was good of you to hold yourself back." Alan added, stepping forward.

But the explosion had only been delayed, and suddenly, Grell's eyes shot upward with a flash, his razor sharp teeth bared and ready. Shoving away from all of them, he stormed off. The others were about to pounce and stop him from barging into Jean's office, but their call to action was not needed as Grell merely stormed away from all of them, in the direction of the elevator, clearly intending to leave work and not come back for a while. But such shirking of duty wasn't anything new for Grell Sutcliff and the others only sighed as he left.

Eric slumped his shoulders and said what they were all thinking.

"Man, Spears needs to hurry up and come back here. I don't know how much longer we can keep the two of them from just going at it in an all-out war."

"It would be best if Grell could just ignore whatever Jean says." Alan remarked, his eyebrows furrowing in concern as well.

"Or for Prince Jean to stop picking a fight. He prances around here more primped up than Sutcliff ever does. What nerve..." Ronald chimed, all of them situated around his desk solemnly.

"Four more months. We'll just have to see how it goes." Alan said with finality, then turned around to return to his work. It was better than standing around thinking about how much they needed William back to hold the team together.

It was funny, Alan thought as he resumed his seat at his desk for paperwork. He hadn't really thought much of it before, but William T. Spears really was necessary to have around to hold the department together. As stoic as he was, as unsociable, as impersonal as they all thought he was, he probably knew them all the best out of anyone. He knew which cases were best to assign to whom, he knew which partnerships worked best when making people work on cases in groups, he looked out for them in all the ways that were so easily overlooked. And as the only person in the department who could handle Grell Sutcliff, that most of all was what he contributed to the team not falling apart.

It was true, nothing about what they currently had between them could be considered a relationship, that couldn't be denied. But at the same time, it was probably true that they just didn't know how to read William. None of them had really noticed what he contributed to the team dynamic until he had left. Alan hadn't realized how much William had taken his condition into consideration, assigning him fewer amounts of field work to avoid taxing his body. Jean, on the other hand, was assigning him as much field work as everyone else, and it was extremely tiring on Alan's body. Looking back on it, at first he had been angry with William for coddling him and giving him special treatment. But as he had nearly collapsed several times while on duty, he was beginning to see things in a different light. Whether or not he wanted to admit it, his diseased body had limits. And clearly, William had known these limits better than he himself had, and he had even managed to lessen his dispatch duty without making it obvious to anyone. Alan certainly hadn't noticed until after William had left and Jean had assigned him more work than was advised.

In addition, he remembered back when Grell was facing an inquiry for the Jack the Ripper incident. William had jumped through many hoops and risked a demotion himself to defend Grell in his case. If he was as careless a supervisor as everyone liked to believe, then he certainly wouldn't have taken the effort to preserve Grell's job as he did. On some level, he understood that Grell was the most efficient dispatch worker, and the best fighter that they had on the team, but if it was just that, he didn't think William would have gone so much out of his way. He let a small smile escape as he worked. Perhaps Grell was right, the others just didn't know how to read William properly.

"What are you smiling at?" Eric leaned over his desk, curiosity twinkling.

"Nothing. Get back to work, you." Alan chided gently.

"All right all right."

Eric put up his hands in defeat and sat down at his desk finally, staring at the paperwork he had already finished. He might have been a procrastinator, but that was partially because when he worked, he worked extremely quickly. He only had a little bit of paperwork left to do, and he wouldn't get much more work as the day went on so he leaned back in his chair and relaxed a bit, letting his mind wander.

His thoughts meandered to Grell and Spears, what was between them, what wasn't between them, and then a thought struck him.

"Hey!"

"What is it now, Eric?" Alan was slightly exasperated, mostly because Eric had startled him with his sudden outburst.

"We should throw a welcome-back party for Spears once he gets back!"

Ronald's ears perked at the word "party" and leaned over backwards in his chair to contribute his opinion.

"I'm down! And then we can all give him a solid punch for leaving us for so long!"

"That's probably one of the better ideas you've had, Eric."

Alan chimed in and grinned. William really was vital to their team after all.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Wow, that got a bit fluffy there at the end. Sorry about that, but I can't resist the themes of everyone working together and team bonding and whatnot.


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